


Faultless In Spite Of All Faults

by Joyous32



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, F/M, M/M, Matchmaking, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyous32/pseuds/Joyous32
Summary: Grantaire is commissioned to find a spouse for Enjolras.





	1. Commission, Not Charity

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Emma" by Jane Austen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire is commissioned by Enjolras's parents as a matchmaker of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Class discrimination, alcoholism

“Don’t fidget, Monsieur le Marquis.” Grantaire commented in Patois as he painted and Enjolras sighed. His hair kept falling into his face and the windows were shut to stop a breeze from tousling it as it was. Still, the sunshine burned through the window and Enjolras could feel his mother’s hand grow damp beneath his own.

“Don’t call me that. They don’t understand you.” He added as he glanced over to see his father sitting elegantly beside him with his cane in hand. Enjolras winced away from it, but felt his mother squeeze his shoulder lightly from where she stood behind him.

“I believe they would catch on if they never heard your title.” Grantaire replied, giving him a playful glance.

“My friends don’t call me that.” Enjolras reiterated and Grantaire just sighed dramatically.

“Is that what I am, Apollo?” Grantaire questioned.

“Don’t call me that.” Enjolras hissed through his teeth.

“I can’t win.” Grantaire muttered dramatically.

“I have a name.” Enjolras felt foolish to be having this conversation in front of his parents.

“It is Monsieur le Marquis.” Grantaire chuckled.

“Don’t make me rescind this offer. With a word from me, they will kick you out of the palace.”

“Is that a threat, Monsieur le Marquis? Do forgive me, your honor; I do believe we agreed that this was not charity work.” Grantaire stood as if to leave.

“A recommendation isn’t charity. Especially when you’re as good as you are.” Enjolras added quickly and Grantaire approached the family instead, moving Enjolras bodily to face him more directly.

“I blush.” Grantaire teased.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Surely not that.” Grantaire stopped from smiling as Enjolras gritted his teeth.  

“What are you talking about?” The duke demanded in French as Grantaire sat back down.

“Nothing, Father.” Enjolras transitioned easily.

“Monsieur le Marquis tends to fidget, Monsieur le Duc.” Grantaire replied in French and the man grunted.

“It isn’t polite to speak in a foreign language in present company.” The duke commented and Enjolras rolled his eyes as Grantaire hid his smirk behind his easel.

“Patois isn’t foreign. As the duke, you should know it. What better way to reach the people than to speak their language?” Enjolras replied.

“Do not scold your father.” Enjolras’s mother finally cut in and Enjolras was silent.  

“We need no knowledge of the commoner’s language.” Enjolras’s father added.

“Make him fat.” Enjolras finally grumbled in Patois and Grantaire coughed to stop from laughing.

“It appears that Mademoiselle Baptistine has begun her season.” The duchess commented and Enjolras bit back a groan. “Perhaps one of your friends knows her?”

“I’m not interested, Mother.”

“You better be.” The duke grumbled.

“I know her.” Grantaire added and Enjolras glanced over to him. “Well, I know her brother. The bishop?” He suggested and Enjolras just stared in confusion.

“Perhaps you can present our young Marquis to the mademoiselle, eh?” The Duchess continued and Enjolras sighed.

“For a price, Duchess, one can do anything.” Grantaire added and Enjolras widened his eyes at Grantaire’s daring.

“How do you know the bishop?” The duke asked suspiciously.

“Old family friends.” Grantaire answered easily, smiling over to the duke, who probably sensed his cheek. If the bottle of absinthe didn’t point out Grantaire’s rather hedonistic lifestyle, the paint coating his face upon entry to the Enjolras Castle did. Any connection Grantaire had to the bishop was in a confessional. The duchess either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Wonderful! Monsieur Grantaire can present her to you at the Baptistine ball.” She called and Enjolras gritted his teeth, giving Grantaire a look that only he could see. Grantaire smirked back. “We shall pay you what is needed, Monsieur.” She finished and then sighed. “She has inherited a considerable dowry, my son. I feel you should do your best with her.”

“There is nothing the Marquis does less than his best at.” Grantaire promised the duchess, who beamed at her son.

“It is not as though we need the money, Mother.” Enjolras reminded her through his teeth.

“And yet, you will look all the better for gaining it, my dear.”

“A fortune hunter with more money than that which he seeks.” Enjolras suggested.

“A responsible, future duke.” She corrected him snappily and Enjolras stayed quiet once more, knowing not to test his mother lest his father come down upon him. “Her standing in society will only help you. Any connection is a good one.”

“And yet, with the citizens we represent, connection is useless.” Enjolras had to blurt.

“Enough of your nonsense.” The duke demanded and Enjolras closed his mouth, working his jaw and watching Grantaire’s eyes narrow as he concentrated.

\--

“Why did you do that?” Enjolras asked as he escorted Grantaire from the palace. Enjolras had offered to carry the paints once his parents had left and Grantaire didn’t mind the company as he carried the canvas and easel.

“Do what, Monsieur le Marquis?” Grantaire gave him a charming smile.

“Stop.” Enjolras practically whispered and Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Look, you know Jehan and Courfeyrac won’t know the family. At least with me, you get the entertainment of watching someone get kicked out of the party for drunkenness. Much more interesting than your parents’ proper friends.”

“Yes, but they will hear back if I never speak to the lady. And if my escort is drunk.”

“Then speak to her and I will be discreet.”

“And you’ll introduce me?” Enjolras gave him a look as Grantaire looked at the automobile. He didn’t seem to know how to respond to it, but Enjolras helped, opening the trunk and placing the paints down inside.

“Of course. I wasn’t joking, Enjolras. I do, in fact, know the bishop.”

“How?”

“Family friends!” Grantaire insisted and Enjolras narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“You’re from Picardy.” Enjolras reminded him and Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“And you’re a nobleman.”

“I’ve never claimed to have familial connections outside of my class.” Enjolras commented and Grantaire was silent as Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Sorry. That sounded…”

“Noble.” Grantaire suggested and Enjolras shrugged and motioned for the guard to step aside so he could open the door. “You could at least pretend to be grateful for what you have.”

“I did nothing to earn it.”

“I said grateful, not acceptant.”

“I am grateful. And with that thankfulness comes my need to spread the wealth.” Enjolras handed Grantaire money and Grantaire leafed through it before handing Enjolras back the excess.

“I’ve told you before. I do not take charity.”

“It’s not charity when you deserve it.” Enjolras responded and Grantaire’s face softened momentarily before thrusting the money into Enjolras’s hands.

“Still not what I am owed.” Grantaire insisted. “I will see you tomorrow night, Marquis de Paris.” Grantaire saluted him as he shut the door and rode off as Enjolras rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done some research on the noble hierarchy of 19th century France, but it may not be entirely accurate. What I've discovered is that a Duke's son could be called a Marquis as a courtesy title. Feel free to tell me if I'm horribly wrong, seeing as this is all based off Wikipedia.


	2. Mlle. Baptistine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras attempts to court Mlle. Baptistine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Religious discussion and mentions of alcoholism and classism.

“Why, you look dashing, my dear Monsieur le Marquis. All the women will swoon.” Grantaire determined when he saw Enjolras dressed in his full ducal attire.

“I have no interest in women.” Enjolras grumbled as Grantaire stepped into the automobile.

“Men then?” Grantaire raised a playful eyebrow.

“All citizens.” Enjolras clarified.

“I do believe that is a rather scandalous position for you to hold, Monsieur le Marquis.”

“You’re a scandalous position to hold.” Enjolras pouted.

“So I am.” Grantaire laughed outwardly, causing the driver to jump slightly. Enjolras leaned in to smell Grantaire’s breath, but it was no more tainted than usual.

“You are not allowed to use that title against me. I got you money without the charity work you assumed it to be and now, I wish for a continued equal standing.”

“Not when you talk like that, you don’t.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Enjolras took a few seconds before realizing that he had resorted back to the royal French in his parents’ vehicle.

“Forgive me, my friend.” Enjolras grumbled and Grantaire tilted his head.

“You have no reason to apologize for what comes naturally to you.”

“I do when it offends another.” Enjolras clarified and Grantaire chuckled.

“Your language does not offend me.” He promised, patting Enjolras’s back and then scooting as far away from him as the vehicle allowed. “Red is definitely your color.” Grantaire changed the subject.

“Thank you.”

“So. About Mademoiselle Baptistine. Don’t talk.” Grantaire instructed him and Enjolras gave him a look. “I mean don’t… scare her away with talk of changing the world. Remember where she comes from and realize that she doesn’t care about this world. Only about the next one.”

“Catholicism believes in charity.”

“Not rebellion.”

“Oh, joy. Marriage to a wife who hates the very core of my existence.” Enjolras grumbled and Grantaire chuckled as they pulled up outside the Baptistine Castle.

“Welcome to married life.”

“You’re not married.”

“Married to my drink as you are to your cause, Monsieur le Marquis.” Grantaire opened the door only to have it wrenched from his grip as the man greeting them opened it for them. “Ow.” Grantaire grumbled in confusion.

“I look forward to learning from your expertise.” Enjolras commented as he stepped out after Grantaire.

“Come along, drama Duc.” Grantaire muttered back and Enjolras gritted his teeth as he rolled his eyes, but followed Grantaire into the castle.

The inside was beautiful, but all too costly for Enjolras. Grantaire was already scanning the room for the wine or some other alcoholic beverage he could get away with drinking in a bishop’s parents’ castle. “Where is she?” Enjolras demanded upon seeing the many dancing figures.

“She probably hasn’t arrived yet.” Grantaire replied. “Arriving late is a fashionable thing for women.” He commented and gestured for Enjolras to follow him. Seeing no other option, Enjolras did so and joined Grantaire in a room where men were laughing, smoking and drinking.

Enjolras gripped Grantaire by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close enough to whisper as Grantaire’s breathing halted. “If you become drunk, I will leave you here.”

“Yes, leave me with the wine. A good threat, Apollo.” Grantaire gave him a look and continued into the room, gently removing himself from Enjolras’s harsh grip. Enjolras forced himself not to react seeing as they had caught a few men’s attention. Grantaire sat beside one, requesting a drink for himself and Monsieur le Marquis, who immediately responded that he didn’t drink. Grantaire didn’t buy it, but didn’t care when he himself was handed a drink anyway.

Enjolras made pleasant conversation with the men, but noticed that Grantaire seemed to hold himself better among these men conversationally than Enjolras had expected him to. Enjolras remained poker faced as they joked about winning over the Baptistine girl or whatever other woman they could find for the night-even if only for the night. Grantaire took it all in stride, but often changed the subject upon seeing Enjolras’s attempts at stoicism. Eventually, Enjolras excused himself from the room for some air and Grantaire reluctantly followed.

“Are you drunk?” Enjolras asked as Grantaire gestured Mademoiselle Baptistine and her family. Grantaire sighed.

“I will introduce you and you should ask her for a dance. When you dance, flatter her. Attempt good conversation. I hope you thought some safe points to speak of whilst here.”

“I have a few stowed away for whenever I am in my parents’ friends’ company.” Enjolras answered flatly.

“Good. Speak of those and do not anger her. Perhaps you will win a seat nearby her at supper.”

“Is that what I’m after?”

“Step by step.” Grantaire shrugged and motioned with his head for Enjolras to follow him over to the girl.

“You don’t sound very hopeful.”

“Get through the night, Monsieur le Marquis, and then we will see.” Grantaire offered and stopped once they had reached the girl and her family.

“Monsignor.” Grantaire gave a slight bow toward the bishop, who stared over at him in confusion. “Perhaps you remember me? Monsieur Grantaire, sire de Picardie?” Enjolras was tempted to rip Grantaire’s head off. “I’ve had correspondence with you regarding Monsieur le Marquis Enjolras.” Grantaire clarified and the bishop’s eyes seemed to clear. Enjolras still wanted Grantaire’s head.

“Ah yes. Marquis.” The bishop bowed to Enjolras, who returned the greeting.

“Monsignor.” Enjolras replied, never relieving tension.

“Well, sir, I would be honored to introduce you to my sister, Mademoiselle Baptistine.” The bishop gestured to the lady and Enjolras remember to smile as he kissed the lady’s hand.

“It is an honor, mademoiselle.” Enjolras commented and Grantaire breathed for the first time since approaching the family. She gave a small curtsey and glanced at her brother. “Would you do me the further honor of allowing me this dance?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire stopped from swooning. He wasn’t sure if Enjolras’s acting abilities were effecting him or if it was the fact that Grantaire knew that Enjolras was only acting.

The mademoiselle granted him the dance and the two glided off together. “What brings you here, Monsieur le Marquis?” She asked shyly and Enjolras figured the truth wouldn’t hurt.

“In all honesty, mademoiselle, you.” Enjolras gave her a smile that never reached his eyes.

“And how have I won your favor?” She continued and Enjolras thought quickly.

“A beautiful woman who knows her values makes a wonderful wife, if not at least, a good friend.”

“And what would you determine to be my values, Monsieur?” Enjolras inwardly cursed but didn’t let it show on his face. Flattery didn’t work when the woman was as smart as she.

“From what I hear, you are well versed in literature as well as your religious practices.”

“My religious practices are not practices, but a lifestyle.”

“To each his own.”

“Would your lifestyle coincide with mine?” She asked and Enjolras realized how badly he wanted to go home. He had never missed his gaudy castle more.

“I know very little of your lifestyle and haven’t seen it in practice.” Enjolras replied.

“Do you not attend mass?” The woman asked and Enjolras hesitated.

“I do.”

“As often as the bishop suggests?”

“The bishop’s suggestions are simple suggestions. Not requirements under any law.”

“What about God’s law?”

“There is room for interpretation.” Enjolras shrugged and she pulled away as the song ended. Enjolras snapped his jaw shut as she stared stoically up at him, but allowed him to lead her back to her brother.

“Hasn’t run screaming yet, Apollo?” Grantaire whispered to Enjolras as he passed.

“Thank you, mademoiselle.” Enjolras bowed his thanks to the woman and prepared to go home, finally.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you sat with us at supper. We have many matters to discuss.” She requested and Enjolras thought of no way to respectfully turn her down. Plus, Grantaire’s shock made him want to agree. So he did.

Enjolras watched the girl for the remainder of the dancing and saw that she seldom left her brother’s side. “Do you like her, Apollo?” Grantaire asked with a grunt as they stood along the outskirts of the room.

“That’s not my name.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“She is well suited for the upper class.” Enjolras offered and Grantaire grunted again.

“We could leave.”

“She wants to talk over supper.”

“And?”

“You’re drunk.” Enjolras snapped quietly and Grantaire rolled his eyes, heading back off to find more to drink.

In the end, Enjolras was seated across from the bishop and Mademoiselle Baptistine with Grantaire at his side. The table was wide enough with enough food that quiet conversation was not going to be an option for them. Enjolras hoped that meant that the woman would drop their previous conversation. He had no such luck. When she called across for him, many eyes around them turned toward them. It was fairly unusual for a lady to address a man without being addressed first. Of course, this wasn’t what frustrated Enjolras.

“Monsieur le Marquis, what are your thoughts on the bishop’s teachings?” She called.

“He is filled with the wisdom of God.” Enjolras offered and piled food into his mouth to suggest his lack of appreciation toward this conversation.

“And what does that mean to you?” She pestered on.

“What does it mean to you, mademoiselle?” Enjolras replied.

“It isn’t polite to ignore a lady.” She answered with a playful smirk and Enjolras gritted his teeth.

“The bishop is brilliant in his line of profession.”

“And only there?” She asked and Enjolras regretted his big bites in the awkward silence.

“I never said that.” He coughed out, taking a sip of water as Grantaire watched him amusement.

“You implied it.”

“We all have our strengths and weaknesses.” Enjolras attempted a peaceful smile.

“Some more than others.” Grantaire grumbled and Enjolras glanced at him forbearingly.

 “And what say you of his weaknesses?” The girl asked, taking her brother’s hand in her own. The man’s attention was turned more directly to their conversation.

“That’s not for me to say.” Enjolras replied. “I’m sure God will reveal them in His time.” Grantaire snorted in his soup. “Why? What say you of my weaknesses?” Enjolras continued.

“You are arrogant.” She replied and Enjolras blinked.

“I’m glad you feel you can be so open with me.”

“And condescending.” Grantaire watched as her brother attempted to quiet her.

“Maybe he’ll listen to you.” Grantaire offered to her and she raised her eyebrows at him as if surprised he dared to address her.

“And you, my dear lady, are—”

“A delight to be around! Monsieur le Marquis is not at all feeling himself, tonight, Monsignor. Forgive us if we depart early.” Grantaire suggested and yanked on Enjolras’s collar as he stood. Enjolras followed, allowing Grantaire to escort him off the premises.  

“Do you ever think before you speak, Apollo?” Grantaire asked.

“Are you sure you know my name, Grantaire?” Enjolras snapped back as the automobile’s door shut behind them. “What about you? You added to her insanity.”

“I was not participating. I was supervising.” Grantaire commented and Enjolras gave him a look.  

“You took her side.” He pointed out.

“I was making sure it was a fair debate.” Grantaire shrugged.

“The entire thing was unfair to begin with!” Enjolras tossed his hands in the air and loosened his cravat.

“For her.” Grantaire grumbled.

“No—”

“Apollo, you underestimate your fire and ice.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Soon, that argument will lose it’s fervor.”

“Yeah, when you stop drinking.”

“Already lost.”

“Oh, yes, sire. Do tell where exactly you were knighted?” Enjolras snapped and Grantaire shrugged.

“Picardy, duh.”

“And what for?”

“My drinking abilities.” Grantaire gave him a smug smile and Enjolras turned away with a huff.

“What did you do to upset her anyway?” Grantaire asked after a few moments of listening to the automobile grumble.

“I merely stated that I take the bishop’s suggestions as suggestions.” Enjolras explained to the window.

“She was justified then.” Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“What?” Enjolras turned to glare at him.

“You insulted her brother.” Grantaire reminded him and Enjolras threw his hands in the air.

“She had nothing better to do than talk of her brother!”

“And you of your cause.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow, but remained calm in the face of Enjolras’s fury.

“At least my topic has some worth!” Enjolras snarled and Grantaire winced.

“So now the people are worthless?”

“No.” Enjolras pouted, staring forward at the seat in front of him.

“You should think before you speak, Apollo.” Grantaire offered after a stretched silence.

“People are too easily offended.” Enjolras muttered.

“You’re one to talk.” Grantaire offered and Enjolras ignored him, silence filling the remainder of the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm doing my best with the social niceties of nineteenth century Paris. Still feel free to let me know about anything inaccurate!


	3. Mlle. Magliore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras attempts to court Mlle. Magliore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of classism and drunkenness.

“I hear that you have found a lady who matches your wits, Enjolras. Should we soon find ourselves in the company of a Marquess?” Courfeyrac asked when Enjolras sat down across from his friends.

“Insults are not witty.” Enjolras replied.

“And yet, yours somehow were?” Grantaire gave him a look as he downed his absinthe. Enjolras gritted his teeth.

“I never aimed to insult anyone.”

“The goal is seldom equal to the result.” Combeferre informed them as he ruffled through some papers.

“Our fount of wisdom speaks!” Bahorel shouted, plopping down beside Grantaire. Combeferre turned red, but didn’t look up from his work.

“I never insulted anyone!” Enjolras finished, never flinching from his gaze on Grantaire’s face. Grantaire leaned into the table.

“Because I was quick enough to stop you.” He added and Enjolras rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond.

“Well, what could we have expected when all that was on the line was his political standing.” Feuilly added and Enjolras glared at him.

“Are we going to start the meeting or continue to mock me?”

“Honestly, I thought that was why the meeting was called.” Bossuet announced over Grantaire’s “same difference” as he entered the café with Joly at his side. “Did you really call her worthless?”

“No.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him and then looked back to Grantaire, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Is it true that you should be married by the end of the year?” Bahorel asked.

“I should hope not.” Enjolras grumbled.

“That’s my job.” Grantaire announced.

“I am perfectly capable of finding my own wife, thank you.” Enjolras claimed curtly and organized some papers decisively, as if trying once more to change the subject.

“If it were left up to you, you’d marry France, herself.” Courfeyrac laughed.

“It’s not possible.” Enjolras sighed.

“You checked?” Grantaire responded and Enjolras started to bark back, but then saw a small, dirty head poke its way through the door.

“Enjolras, there’s a girl here with a letter for you.” Gavroche called into the café and Enjolras glanced at him.

“Are you going to let her in?”

“She could be a spy.”

“Let her in, Gavroche.” Enjolras finished and Gavroche exited for a moment before allowing a woman entry. She entered with her jaw set and her head held high until she looked around to find Enjolras.

“Monsieur le Marquis.” The girl scuttled forward and then bowed.

“No need for that. Get up, please.” Enjolras stopped from snapping, glancing around to be sure that nobody else had seen. Nobody else cared. Despite Enjolras’s better efforts, nobody in their frequented café doubted his nobility. His posture and looks alone made this clear, but followed by his speech, there was no convincing otherwise.

The girl hurried back up and looked at him. “From Mademoiselle Baptistine.” She handed him the letter and he raised an eyebrow as he took it.

“And you are?” Enjolras asked.

“I am her maidservant.”

“What’s your name, mademoiselle?” Enjolras continued and all the men in the room stiffened as they glanced at him.

“Magliore.”

“Mademoiselle Magliore—” Enjolras was interrupted by her giggles.

“There’s no need for such a title, Monsieur.” She didn’t look up from the floor and Enjolras blinked as he gaped.

“Citizen, what has the Mademoiselle paid you for delivering this message?” He asked, beginning to open it.

“Mademoiselle has no need to pay me. She feeds and clothes me as it is. I can work in return.”

“And if you wished to part from her?” Enjolras narrowed his eyes as he read over the note. The girl turned her eyes down once more and bowed slightly as she thought this over, her face pink.

“I have been informed to await your answer, Monsieur.” She curtsied in reply and Enjolras glanced over at her with wide eyes.

“Well, I have no parchment available. Nor any money on my person.”

“I do not need money, Monsieur.” She grumbled out and Grantaire snorted. Magliore jumped, but Enjolras ignored him.

“Please, walk with me.” Enjolras suggested and the girl was hesitant, but did as was requested as Enjolras exited the café.

“What is he doing?” Bossuet questioned.

“Enjolras appears to be attempting a courtship with the lady.” Combeferre replied, still not looking up from his work. Honestly, they hadn’t realized he had even noticed the girl’s entrance.

“Well, that’s going to end in tears.” Bahorel commented.

“From which party do you suppose?” Joly inputted and Grantaire stood as Bahorel threw his head back in laughter.

 “I’ll play mediator for our leader in red.” Grantaire suggested.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing, R?” Courfeyrac gave him a cheeky smile, but Grantaire was already out the door, playing too drunk to respond.

Grantaire easily caught up with the two, who seemed to be making their way over to the nearest post office, though Enjolras knew enough side routes for this trip to last however long as he wished it to. Grantaire held back a few steps to follow the two within hearing distance.

“Have you always lived with the Baptistines, then?” Enjolras asked, watching Magliore carefully.

“Yes, Monsieur.” She didn’t even glance over to him as she spoke.

“And what do you think of Mademoiselle Baptistine?” If Enjolras craned his neck any farther to grab her full attention, Grantaire reckoned he’d turn into a giraffe.

“She is a kind and caring mistress.”

“You can speak freely with me.” Enjolras claimed distractedly as he reached the post office and bought a piece of parchment.  

“Monsieur?” Magliore blushed, finally looking back at him to find him furiously writing as he continued.

“And what do you think of me?” The girl giggled once more in confusion or in embarrassment—Grantaire guessed the emotions were both fully present in her mind. “Speak freely, Mademoiselle.”

“Um—”

“Enjolras! Fancy seeing you here!” Grantaire draped an arm over Enjolras’s shoulder, leaning all of his weight on the man. Glancing down, he saw that he had messed Enjolras up and chuckled.

“You’re drunk, Grantaire.” Enjolras claimed and looked pointedly toward the woman in their company. Grantaire assumed that a drunk man was far less horrifying to Magliore than Enjolras’s attempts at small talk.

“And you’re not, Enjolras. Why not?”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“Ah, would that imply that you would be drunk were it later in the day? After all, I’ve never seen you without your wits about you.”

“I’ve never seen you with yours.”

“A lie.”

“Grantaire—”

“Here is your letter, Mademoiselle. I trust you to deliver it properly.” Grantaire took the letter from Enjolras’s hands and handed it to the girl who was watching them with raised eyebrows. Enjolras took it back rather forcefully to sign it and then handed it once more to the girl with some money. He shook Grantaire off, but Grantaire didn’t go very far before collapsing back onto Enjolras with more weight than necessary.

She moved to decline it, but her eyes widened at the amount and she glanced back up to Enjolras in surprise. “Thank you, Monsieur. Is there anything else I can do for you, Monsieur?”

“I would like to see you again.” Enjolras claimed and the girl stared in confusion. Grantaire face palmed, wishing to be anywhere else in this moment as the girl turned red with realization. She looked down to the ground once more and curtsied.

“Monsieur, I am far below you in social status for you to mean what I think you to mean and otherwise, I am not interested in your consideration. Thank you, Messieurs.” She whimpered out and scampered off before Enjolras could say another word.

“How’d that go for you, Apollo?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras pushed him away. “Your first hint was that she wasn’t interested in leaving her mistress.” He added and Enjolras turned back to him with furrowed eyebrows. “What did the letter say?”

“That she did not wish to see me again.” Enjolras croaked and Grantaire barked out a laugh that woke Enjolras from his stupor. He began his stride back to the café.

“Turned down by two in a day, eh, Apollo?”

“I wish you would stop calling me that.” Enjolras replied quietly and Grantaire couldn’t tell if it was the calm before the storm or if Enjolras’s storm had already dissipated. He figured he’d find out upon pressing on.

“You cannot fix what isn’t broken, Apollo.” Grantaire informed him and Enjolras glanced over to him, but was silent. “She had no desire to leave her status in society and your offer only reminded her of what she did not have.”

“Are you implying my incompetence?”

“In regards to courtship, yes.”

“And in regards to status?” Enjolras turned to glare and Grantaire smiled snottily.

“Yeah, that too.” He commented and Enjolras sped up as if wishing to lose Grantaire in the streets.

“I wanted to help her.” Enjolras determined.

“She didn’t want your help.” Grantaire added.

“Just as I do not want yours.”

“Your parents do.”

“I do not need a matchmaker.” Enjolras snarled.

“On the contrary.”

“I do not need _you_.” Enjolras turned in front of the café’s door, blocking Grantaire’s entrance to it and Grantaire felt his heart stop.

“On the contrary.” Grantaire repeated and Enjolras narrowed his eyes, clearly expecting a different reaction from the suddenly sober man. “Those who are comfortable with their lifestyles see no need for charity. That lack of need turns to a lack of want on their parts. Your charity instead turns to an insult. Which I thought by now you would have learned. She did not want your charity, nor did she need it. Just as I neither want nor need it.”

“Can I not find those who want it?” Enjolras snapped.

“I should hope not.” Grantaire chuckled with pain in his eyes. “Remember, Enjolras, you are uncomfortable with your level of riches. You wish to be like us and yet, you expect others to wish to be like you. Balance is always healthy. Those in that state often realize this.”

“Do you?” Enjolras grumbled before stepping back into the café, one to have the last word, but Grantaire could sense nature’s test of his wills and his desires. More specifically, his desire for Enjolras.


	4. Cosette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras befriends Cosette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child abuse, drunkenness, murder, fraud, religion, and stereotyping

“So!” Grantaire plopped down beside Enjolras, who scooted over slightly when Grantaire’s arm hit his. “I have a friend of a friend who is looking for a suitor.”

“Friend of a friend?”

“Adopted sister once removed of a… never mind. Anyway, she’s eligible and has status.” Enjolras was glancing at him as if wondering if he was already drunk.

Eventually, Enjolras looked back down to his papers. “Don’t need status.”

“Your parents do. Don’t worry, it’s a fake status.”

Enjolras’s head snapped up with a huge grin. “What?”

“Dad’s a convict pretending to be a nobleman.” Grantaire laughed, unable to avoid it with that look on Enjolras’s face. Of course nothing would make him happier than someone succeeding at faking status.

“A convict?” Enjolras raised his eyebrows, and Grantaire’s smile never faded. Now, he had Enjolras’s full attention.

“I thought you didn’t judge, Apollo.”

“Is he a murderer?”

“Says the man planning to murder the king.” Grantaire taunted.

“Well, my next question—if you answered positively—was going to be _who_ did he murder.” Enjolras continued, his smile still not leaving his face.

Grantaire wasn’t sure if he should be concerned. “I can’t tell if you’re joking. You don’t normally, but that also seems a bit too insane for you.”

“Really?” Some of the light in Enjolras’s eyes faded, though playfully, it seemed. Grantaire still wasn’t sure.

“I’m actually kind of worried.”

“I was joking.”

“So weird.” Grantaire’s face had frozen and Enjolras looked back down to his papers.

“The girl?” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“Right. Well, you’re going on a stroll with them into the Gardens.”

“ _I_ am?” Grantaire stopped from laughing at the fear in the man’s voice.

“We are. Don’t worry. I’ll distract the convict if he gets any crazy ideas.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You wound me.”  

“When?” Enjolras groaned.

“Tomorrow evening. I already checked with your parents and you’re free.”

“Because my parents know my full schedule.” Enjolras gave Grantaire a flat look.

“Of course, they don’t. They would never let you plot to kill the king.” Grantaire gave him a smirk, but Enjolras ignored him. “They said you had planned on sitting at home. And they also said that they know tonight you’re going out with friends.” Grantaire continued and Enjolras gave a slight nod. “Which, of course, I knew too. Tonight’s meeting night.”

“Yes.”

“Right. So. You’re free tomorrow?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras gave another nod.

-

Grantaire and Enjolras met at the café the following day and then headed off to the Gardens together. Grantaire was surprised at his own astonishment when Enjolras didn’t shut up the entire walk over. “…and of course, he’s a conman, right? So he _must_ hate the king. So she could be amenable to my goals as well as my methods—after all her father is a convict. And if so—”

“Enjolras, please don’t mention that fact to her.” Grantaire cut in and Enjolras frowned.

“What?”

“What if it is a secret?”

“A secret?” Enjolras repeated.

“Not yours to tell, but her father’s.”

“That’s a bit of a big secret.”

“Still not yours to tell.” Grantaire insisted and Enjolras paused in his speech. Not for long.

“Well, the ideals are still there. They must be. After all, how many years did you say he was a convict?”

“I don’t know. That’s, uh, all I was told.”

“What was he in for?” Enjolras pressed and Grantaire gave him a look.

“Stealing and evasion of justice, so I hear.” Grantaire offered and once again, Enjolras paused.

“Justice for stealing? How many years…” Enjolras muttered to himself for a moment and then they had reached the Gardens. Grantaire recognized the man and his daughter. He had seen his own friend, Eponine watching the girl fairly often.

“I’m nervous.” Enjolras voiced a few seconds before they were in hearing distance.

“Don’t be. I’ll protect you.” Grantaire offered once more and this time, Enjolras didn’t protest.

“Monsieur! Mademoiselle!” Grantaire greeted them with open arms and the two looked to him.

“You are Monsieur Grantaire?” The father asked.

“’Tis I.” Grantaire voiced and then gestured to Enjolras. The girl smiled at them brightly, but her eyes hurt. Grantaire understood that pain. It was practically palpable. He glanced once more to the father. “And this is Monsieur—”

“Enjolras.” Enjolras held his hand out to the man, his eyes aflame. Grantaire couldn’t help but smile back. “Pleasure to meet the both of you.” He was using Patios. Nobody seemed to mind.

“Hello, Enjolras. I am Ultime Fauchelevent. This is my daughter, Cosette.” Fauchelevent shook Enjolras's hand. 

“Mademoiselle.” Enjolras bowed before her, never reaching to touch her hand that had not been extended. Grantaire felt like a beaming father. But why wasn't it extended? Once again, he was unsure if Enjolras was acting or not, but this time, he was a little surer that he wasn’t.

“Monsieur.” She curtsied in turn.

“Um.” Enjolras was suddenly speechless.

“Shall we?” Grantaire cut in, gesturing to the path. The two began, Cosette standing beside Enjolras as Grantaire and Fauchelevent walked behind.

“He is a good man?” Fauchelevent asked and Grantaire nodded slowly.

“He is a great man. His love for people out ways his love for anything else.”

“Even money?”

“Especially money.”

“And God?”

“I cannot say.” Grantaire chose not to go down that path again. Fauchelevent was silent. “And what of your love for Cosette?” Grantaire dared and the man looked to him with confusion.

“Endless. Shadowed only by my love for God.”

“Why are her eyes hurting as one beaten then?” Grantaire stopped walking, turning to face the man completely.

“I would never! I—You can ask her, I wouldn’t—” The man stuttered as he turned bright red. Grantaire suspected truth from the man’s lips, but continued to wait for him to make this make sense. He knew abuse when he saw it. That was what drew him to the Thenardiers. He knew it from himself, so he knew what they were going through. Maybe not to the same extent, but he understood the implications of a smiling face and heavy eyes. “She was raised in an abusive household. Your friend, who knew her, that household. Surely you know—”

“I know Eponine’s past, yes.”

“It hurts me to hear Cosette still holds the countenance of one abused.” Grantaire saw the pain in the man’s stance. If he was hiding that he was a convict, what else was he hiding? What could he have in store for the girl? For Enjolras?

“Me as well. If I find that you are harming her, or ever have, I will unleash the fury of the man in front of us.” Grantaire pointed to Enjolras. “Because he is good, nay, he is great, and will not stand for abuse on any level.”

“You speak of him as one would speak of God.”

“He is my god.” Grantaire claimed nonchalantly.

“Blasphemy.”

“Truth. Enjolras’s religion, I cannot speak for, but my own…well, I have none. But him.” Grantaire gestured once more to Enjolras, but smaller.

“That’s a sin.”

“In the eyes of a god I do not believe in.” Grantaire added and Fauchelent’s eyes cleared.

“Very well.” They continued walking in silence, hearing the quiet tittering of the two in front of them. “It is good that she has someone else who cares even without full knowledge of who she is.”

“She is a woman.” Grantaire wondered at the man’s point.

“She is my angel.”

“This from a religious man.” Grantaire scoffed.

“It is true. I have no doubt. God sent me her.”

-

“Tell me about yourself, Monsieur.” Cosette requested and Enjolras smiled as they walked.

“Firstly, I must implore that you call me Enjolras.”

“Then I shall be Cosette.” She smiled at the ground and Enjolras continued to grin at her in wonder. There was a strength in her jaw that he seldom saw in women. Determination in her eyes he only ever saw in his friends’.

“I—” Enjolras laughed. “I wish to free all citizens from the oppressive nature of the upper class.” He stated, and she looked to him with raised eyebrows, but a smile nonetheless.

“Oh? How’s that going, Marquis?” She questioned, and he furrowed his eyebrows together as she giggled. He grinned back.

“Um, we have a plan. My friends and I.”

“That’s good. My father would like you. We give to the poor regularly. He insists upon it.” She explained and Enjolras listened raptly.

“And what of yourself, citizen?” Enjolras asked and she huffed another laugh.

“I too, wish for all to be equal. Though I fear the results when those who wish it have more than they understand.” She explained and Enjolras thought about it.

“Is that where you would consider me?”

“I do not know enough to make an opinion.”

“You are wise.”

“I thank you.” She gave a slight nod. Enjolras had noticed that she hadn’t stopped smiling since they begin speaking. Which, was a good sign…

“There, I have told you. And what can you tell me of yourself, Mademoiselle Cosette?”

“I like to sing.” She informed him, and he chuckled.

“I assume you to be wonderful.”

“I do not know, nobody listens.”

“Not even your father?”

“Only when he is out do I sing.”

“As good a time as ever.” Enjolras shrugged and she giggled. “Tell me more.”

“I…” She hesitated and he reached his head down to look up into her down-turned face.

“Do not hold back, Cosette. I have had words of fire spewed at me by women for weeks now. I think I can take it.” He offered and she gave a slight chuckle before looking into his eyes.

“My heart belongs to another.” She informed him, her eyebrows pressed together. Enjolras’s smile faded ever so slightly.

“Who is this fine gentleman?”

“I do not know his name.”

“A good start.” Enjolras insisted and she gave him a look.

“As good as any. He walks by my father and me each day holding law books. As well as ones with foreign languages.” She shrugged and he nodded.

“I too am a law student. Perhaps I know him?” Enjolras suggested and she gave a small gasp.

“He is shorter than most, but still taller than me. He has brown hair and freckles, blue eyes. Or were they green? I know not, Enjolras, and how it irks me.” She explained with a slight jump to her step.

“Have you spoken to your father of this man?”

“No. And I plead you to desist such thoughts.” She frowned.

“I wouldn’t tell.” Enjolras held up his hands in surrender. “I do not doubt you will meet him again, Cosette. You must talk to him when you do. The poor fellow might not have the courage to start a conversation.” Enjolras had a feeling he knew just of whom she spoke. And that poor fellow didn’t have the courage, Enjolras knew.

“He does seem bashful.”

“And yet you love him already.”

“I do.” She smiled up at Enjolras, who had to smile back.

“Then I wish you the best of luck with him, Mademoiselle.”

“You are not insulted?”

“By what?”

“Me?” She almost complained.

“No. Though, I do believe we could be friends, Cosette.” Enjolras suggested and she nodded.

“And so, we shall finish our walk.” She insisted, and he smiled.

-

“You liked her.” Grantaire smiled to Enjolras as they left the Gardens. He could hear the pain in his own voice. Why didn’t he consider this when titling himself Enjolras’s matchmaker? He would either have to hijack all the meetings with women, or suffer tremendously.

“I do. But she is not mine to like in the way you suggest.”

“What?”

“She is in love with Marius.”

“What?”

“Remember Marius coming in the other day, complaining about a blonde angel that he couldn’t name? He walked by her each day, but never struck up the courage to say hello?” Enjolras grinned at Grantaire, who stared back in amusement.

“This is that girl?”

“This is that girl.” Enjolras repeated with a nod.

“And thus, that’s the end?”

“I’m not stealing her away when she has her heart set on another.” Grantaire could feel his own heart jump. And here he was, practically giving Enjolras away.

“Kind.” That was all Grantaire could stutter out.

“And what of you and the old man? I heard the word ‘abuse’?”

“Oh, lord. I was hoping you two couldn’t hear us.”

“I don’t think she paid any mind. I am used to listening for your voice, however.” Enjolras explained nonchalantly and Grantaire knew he was going to need a drink pretty soon.

“Did you see her eyes?”

“Strong.” Enjolras didn’t skip a beat.

“They shouldn’t have had to be.” Grantaire pointed out and Enjolras’s head whipped around to look at him with furrowed brows.

“Why not? It is good to be strong.”

“Yes, but why is one strong unless they endured the difficulties that made them that way?” Grantaire added and Enjolras paused. “I simply wanted to be sure he wasn’t harming her.”

“And you are sure he isn’t?”

“Yes. Too much love and pain in his voice.” Grantaire concluded and Enjolras gave a nod.

“Then, how?”

“She lived in an abusive household before he adopted her. And so, she is strong.”

“And you were checking up on him.” Enjolras pointed out and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“Some stereotypes are there because they are true.”

“I am not insulting you.” Enjolras added and Grantaire turned to see him still smiling. “You, too, are kind, Grantaire.”

And Grantaire melted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long. Nothing like procrastinating from finals to focus you on crap from a year ago.


	5. Magnon

“I found a woman!” Enjolras announced as he entered the café a week later. They had searched, but Grantaire had given up when he realized that it would be that easy for him to avoid Enjolras’s marriage.

“Number fifteen on the list of statements that should not ever be made.” Combeferre commented and Bossuet cheerfully wrote it down in his notebook.

“Did she find you too?” Marius asked as he stared out the window.

“Add that.” Combeferre pointed to Bossuet with his pen without even looking up from his work.

“’Am.” Bossuet grunted.

“She agreed to meet me at her house.” Combeferre placed his forehead against the paper in front of him.

“Well this is just a barrel of fun.” Grantaire rested his chin on his hands as he looked over the table to Enjolras.

“With you.” Enjolras finally seemed to understand the implications of his friends. “She can’t leave home much for courting and the like because she has four children.”

“Need a shovel?” Courfeyrac asked.

“What?” Enjolras gave him a look.

“Enjolras, what’s she like?” Marius asked, still staring out the window.

“We gave you Cosette’s name and story, but you still haven’t done anything about it. The fault’s on you, kiddo.” Grantaire informed him, but Marius waved him away. “In love with love.” Grantaire determined, downing a bottle of absinthe.

“She’s nice. I think. We didn’t talk long, but she invited us over for dinner tonight, Grantaire.” Enjolras explained.

“Tonight’s meeting night.” Grantaire pointed out and Enjolras’s face fell.

“And so, Enjolras is no longer a willing bachelor.” Courfeyrac took off his hat and Enjolras playfully shoved him.

“I’m just gonna come out and say it. Is she a prostitute, Enjolras? Because somehow I don’t think your parents will approve.” Grantaire rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t care if they approve. As long as they get off my back.” Enjolras glared back and Grantaire gritted his teeth and groaned. He, himself, would make Enjolras’s parents angry. If he were even a choice. “Anyway, she’s a widow. Working hard with four children and I don’t see why she wouldn’t be a good fit.”

“Have you ever even held a child?” Joly suggested.

“The youngest is around eleven. I hardly think such knowledge would be necessary.”

“Oh, wait, this is always funny. How tall is eleven, Enjolras?” Courfeyrac asked and Enjolras motioned to his knees in confusion.

“Hmm, I reckon about two? At most.” Combeferre concluded.

“You’re an idiot.” Grantaire was laughing hysterically at this point. He stood and stretched, ruffling his own hair.

“You’re not really doing this, are you?” Joly asked.

“We can’t not go.” Grantaire pointed out. “She’s expecting us. Better dress down, though, Apollo. Don’t want to scare the children. Or… kill them with small, shiny objects.”

“How would…” Enjolras didn’t finish as he stalked back out of the café.

Courfeyrac turned to Bossuet. “Please tell me you have that whole transcription.”

-

“You told me to dress down.” Enjolras claimed when they met at the Elephant of the Bastille. He fidgeted with his cloak and Grantaire suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Dressed down, Enjolras was, but Grantaire made a note to keep the youngest from grabbing Enjolras’s not no child proofed buttons.

“You look like an angel, Marquis.”

“Don’t.” Enjolras looked Grantaire over and Grantaire stiffened. “Are those the only dress clothes you own?” Enjolras grumbled and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“I think you’ve forgotten that your clothes cost more than my one bedroom home.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Enjolras grumbled as they approached the little cottage. “Yes, Enjolras. Yes, they are.” Grantaire finally concluded and Enjolras gave him a look before knocking on the door.

There was a crash somewhere beyond the door and both men raised their eyebrows in surprise. Then there was giggling and shouting as little feet pattered around. “Emil, answer the door, will you?” A voice called and Enjolras smiled expectantly. Grantaire wasn’t sure if he was more entertaining or if the sounds beyond the door were. “Emil? Emil!” Another crash and Enjolras winced as Grantaire took a swig from the flask at his side. When Enjolras saw, he slapped away the flask.

“Really?” He demanded, but then the door opened to reveal a small child, about two as Combeferre had guessed. The child was sucking on something that could either be wood or some sort of root vegetable—Grantaire wasn’t entirely sure.

“Hello.” Enjolras smiled at the boy, who raised his arms up to be held by Enjolras. To Grantaire’s utter shock, Enjolras leaned down and picked him up. It seemed as if he had done so a thousand times before. Grantaire reminded himself to accuse Enjolras later of practicing beforehand. “What’s your name?” Enjolras asked and the child just tilted his head in confusion before sneezing in Enjolras’s face. Grantaire snorted in an effort to stop from laughing outright.

A dirty face appeared in the doorway and then disappeared again. “Georges has men at the door!” The boy called as he rushed back into the house. Finally, a lady appeared and welcomed them in hastily, taking Georges from Enjolras.

“Sorry about that. Emil’s upstairs, but I thought he was in the front with Georges. That was Phillipe by the way, who you last saw. Are you boys ready for dinner? We have a potato cream soup, a little bit of a special treat.”

“Sounds delicious.” Enjolras responded and the lady seemed to ruffle at this praise.

“Oh! But I don’t know this gentleman, here.” She gave a small curtsey and Grantaire responded with a bow, looking to Enjolras to remind the man that it was his job to introduce the newcomer.

“Right. This is Grantaire, one of my friends.” Enjolras explained.

“Pleasure to meet you, monsieur. I am Magnon. Now, if you two will wait at the table, I’m almost finished.” She escorted them to another room where the two sat at a table. Once Georges was put down, he stared at Grantaire and Enjolras, still sucking on whatever mangled figure he had in his mouth.

“Does she think she’s entertaining us? You made it clear you wished to court her?” Grantaire leaned in close to Enjolras, who was staring in mild fear at the child still watching them.

“I dunno.” Enjolras grumbled out as a child raced past Georges into the room, knocking the small boy over. Georges began to scream, but it was nothing in comparison to the chaos the other boys in the room were causing. They were racing around the room with wooden swords, which Grantaire figured solved the mystery of Georges’s chew toy.

“Don’t you remember this?” Grantaire smirked and Enjolras shook his head.

“I would’ve been beaten.” He answered under his breath and Grantaire shrugged. Another boy appeared at Grantaire’s elbow and he stopped from cursing.

“Who are you?” The boy asked.

“R.”

“You’re a letter?”

“Yes.” Grantaire figured it would be better to agree rather than explain, but he was alone in such thinking, since Enjolras then launched into the full explanation as to why Grantaire was called ‘R’. Eventually, the boy turned away to crawl under the table with a book. Georges joined the boy under the table, seeming concerned for his brother’s safety. He hadn’t stopped screaming, but it looked like he was unconcerned with the noises that were leaving his own mouth.

“Okay, let’s see. Where are the rest of them?” Magnon asked when she entered the room with a pot of soup.

“The rest?” Enjolras asked in horror.

“Well, we’ve seen four boys so far. Are we waiting on anyone else?” Grantaire offered and Magnon shook her head, looking under the table when she realized where Georges’s cries were coming from.

“Dinner, boys.” She informed them. When Georges reappeared again, Magnon grabbed him, but then set him in Enjolras’s arms again as she stacked books onto a chair. This only increased the child’s volume.

“Citizen, citizen, why?” Enjolras asked.

“Bounce him.” Grantaire suggested, mildly amused, but mostly, gaining a headache. Enjolras attempted to shake the child and Grantaire quickly took the boy from him, bouncing Georges on his knee until the boy finally stopped. Instead, he was laughing, just as loudly.

Finally, all the boys had settled down and Magnon was serving dishes. Georges was in his own chair, stacked high with books. Grantaire watched Enjolras’s eye twitch as he watched this unconventional use of books. “All right. Sorry about the mess, we were just cleaning up. The boys got distracted. You know how boys are.” Magnon tittered. “Anyway, Georges is just getting over a cold, but I don’t think he’s contagious, since none of the rest of us have been sick. So you should be fine. Just don’t share your spoon with him.” Grantaire figured that that ship had flown when the boy sneezed in Enjolras’s face.

“Well, if you do end up needing more medicine, do not hesitate to ask me.” Enjolras offered.

“Oh, such a nice man. Isn’t he nice, Emil?” Magnon asked Emil, whose face was in a book still. “Anyway, I haven’t introduced my boys! This is Emil, he’s the oldest at ten.” This was the boy who stopped listening to Enjolras’s explanation of linguistics. “Jean and Phillipe are twins, six years of age. Then of course, you’ve met our darling Georges. He’s just turned two.” Magnon explained and Grantaire figured that Enjolras should owe Combeferre money.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you, boys.” Enjolras replied.

“You talk funny.” Emil determined and Grantaire started to nod, but then noticed Magnon’s face.

“Emil! We don’t talk to our guests that way!” Magnon reprimanded.

“Well, it’s true.” Emil grumbled.

“You just don’t like that he’s smarter than you.” One of the twins added.

“Monsieur Enjolras is a student. You like books, yes, monsieur?” She asked Enjolras and Grantaire began to wonder if this woman knew Enjolras’s real title.

“Yes.” Enjolras attempted to start a conversation about one of his textbooks, but Magnon laughed.

“I cannot read, monsieur, but that sounds delightful.” She answered and Grantaire saw Enjolras’s jaw work.

“The boy’s probably too young to understand anyway, Enjolras.” Grantaire whispered.

“I’m older than you!” Emil shouted back and Grantaire stared in confusion at this argument.

“Emil thinks he’s older than everyone.” The twin who hadn’t spoken up yet offered.

“Well, it’s not a matter of age as much as it is a matter of understanding. You see, Aristotle—”

“Yeah, I don’t know that word.” Emil was enjoying watching Enjolras flounder. Which, Grantaire realized, was an enjoyable sport.

“Aristotle was a philosopher after—”

“Not that one either.” Emil added.

“Is something burning?” Grantaire asked.

“Oh! The vegetables!” Grantaire wondered what vegetables there were left after the potato soup. The lady jumped up and didn’t return until they were quite finished eating. “The vegetables weren’t quite salvageable.” She informed them sadly.

“I’ll gladly repay you.” Enjolras offered, throwing money at the problem. Grantaire barked out a laugh that he quickly disguised as a cough. He understood, really, why Enjolras wanted to solve the problem so badly—the woman looked heartbroken over her vegetables.

“It’ll be all right. We still have dessert!”

“Dessert!” One of the boys shrieked, but it was too fast for Grantaire to determine the mouth that said it.

The rest of the night continued much of the same. Magnon was hardly present while her boys abused Enjolras’s naivety regarding children. At one point, Grantaire did, in fact, have to pull one of Enjolras’s buttons out of Georges’s mouth. This resulted in screaming, but they were all used to that. Finally, the men were able to leave at a respectable time, with Magnon calling after them to come again. Grantaire doubted it.


End file.
